


bad with attention

by trashyeggroll



Series: can you remind me of my gravity? [1]
Category: Charlie's Angels (2019), Charlie's Angels (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Femslash, Fingering, Idiots in Love, Oral Sex, Quickies, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and i ope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashyeggroll/pseuds/trashyeggroll
Summary: "This isn’t healthy, she’s pretty sure, but that has never been Sabina’s strong suit."
Relationships: Jane Kano/Sabina Wilson
Series: can you remind me of my gravity? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608400
Comments: 43
Kudos: 235





	1. bad with attention

**Author's Note:**

> title from **Tough on Myself** by King Princess
> 
> _Nobody told me_  
>  _To sit down and shut up_  
>  _And take this shit slowly_  
>  _I'm so bad with attention_  
>  _So my good intentions_  
>  _Get bad when you hold me_

While Sabina Wilson may not have digested every line of the Angel’s Handbook, one early lesson from Bosley had, for whatever reason, left an indelible mark on the agent: _Have safe places that not even Charlie knows exist. There will probably come a day that you need it._

Sabina’s almost certain _this_ isn’t what Bosley meant by that, but technically… her Berlin safe house had been around long before she found _this_ particular use for it.

By ‘this’, she means the long, bronze thigh slung over her shoulder, flexing and holding her in place with a heel to the back. It also includes the strong fingers tangled in her hair, and of course, the sticky, hot fluid coating her tongue and dripping down her chin.

Above her, Jane Kano’s eyes are squeezed shut, like always; Sabina’s found a way to keep it from feeling personal. It’s enough of a privilege to get to look up at Jane like this, gray tank top pushed up over her bare breasts, black leggings hanging from one knee, where they’d given up on removing them completely. Sweat shines on her chest and neck, dark brown nipples jumping with her short breaths, and Sabina feels as though she’s looking upon something too precious for the likes of her, trust fund failure that she is… but this heaven, though rare, is freely given.

 _“Sabina,”_ hisses Jane, still not opening her eyes. It’s almost the same tone her fellow Angel uses when she thinks Sabina’s not paying attention in briefings (and she’s usually right).

When the blonde doesn’t respond, even though Sabina _knows_ what she wants, Jane finally looks down at her, and the hazy, blissed look in those dark brown eyes makes something in Sabina’s chest twinge. The heel digging into her back tightens to the point of pain, and the agent briefly, ludicrously thinks this wouldn’t be a bad way to go. She winks up at the impossibly tall woman, tilting her head back just enough for Jane to see her tongue’s deliberately languid movement against her clit.

“Quit messing around.” Jane’s voice is a croak, her proper accent ruined by the frustration making her muscles tense and her clit throb against Sabina’s mouth. “Use-use your fingers.”

Neither of those sentences were requests. A shudder runs down Sabina’s spine at the _command_ underlying the breathlessness, and of course, like a good Angel, she obeys. She brings up one hand, palming along the tensing thigh holding Jane upright against the kitchen counter, and the answering moan that floats down when two of her fingers press into paradise, slick and hot and pulsing around her knuckles, has Sabina desperately shoving her other hand between her own legs. Her briefs are already soaked, and her clit is hard to the point of aching when her fingers start rubbing, firmly, side to side.

Jane’s eyes roll back and close again when Sabina’s arm picks up a rough pace, her pretty mouth falling open and releasing the sweetest noises, mixing with the wet, sucking sounds of the blonde’s pistoning fingers. Sabina keeps her own open as best she can, committing the vision above her to memory while her own climax builds and rises in her lower belly.

Despite whatever distance Jane’s mind maintains from these encounters, her body gives her away. Sabina’s breaths are coming shallower and farther apart as Jane’s shin flexes over her shoulder and her hips start to churn, riding Sabina’s face in earnest, and she can feel tremors wracking the muscles gripping her fingers—then one of the hands in her hair jerks her head back, and the force of it nearly sends Sabina over the edge.

Craning her neck down, Jane keeps tight hold of the blonde’s head and draws her other hand around to trace Sabina’s sticky lips with her fingertips. Obediently, Sabina lets her jaw fall open, and two fingers press against her tongue, trapping it against the bottom of her mouth, and Jane’s thumb curls under her chin for a firm hold. Sabina nearly chokes when she tightens her grip, forcing the blonde’s head to tilt back further, on display for and completely at the mercy of the stunning goddess looking down at her with eyes like lit coals.

Her still-thrusting fingers skid across Jane’s front wall, and the tremors turn into a quake, the taller woman’s torso curling while a flood gushes out from around Sabina’s knuckles, dripping warmly down her wrist. Sabina isn’t far behind—how could she be, to feel the usually stoic, former MI6 agent coming hard, because of her. Moaning her pleasure to the ceiling, hips jerking when Sabina curls her fingers to help draw out the aftershocks. She topples into her orgasm like she does so many things in life, half-fighting it, half-resigned to it, and the release of pressure makes stars burst across her vision, warmth flushing to her toes and tips of her ears after the first wave of blissful relief.

Jane lets out one more low groan when she removes her fingers from Sabina’s mouth, and then she straightens up and takes her leg off the blonde’s shoulder. She’s not looking at her fellow agent anymore, instead sweeping her eyes around the room for her missing clothes and, likely, an avenue of escape.

The first time they’d done this, at the end of an explosive disagreement about a mission, Jane had awkwardly said, “Thank you” after she came… and though she didn’t say it anymore, that was the summation of whatever _this_ was. Their work together created an irrevocable, deeply intimate bond—they’d saved each other’s lives more times than was worth recounting. They’d felt the fear at the possibility of losing the other, as friends, but sometimes the connection between them just… _boiled over_ into the only pressure release valve that seemed to work for both of them. Long term effects unknown.

Sabina ignores the screaming pain in her spine and knees while Jane silently gets dressed, pulling up her leggings and straightening her tank top. Her heavy boots are near the door, where she’d impatiently kicked them off while Sabina nipped at her earlobe, and it takes awhile for her to loosen the laces and retie them once on her feet. Sabina just tilts her head, watching in her periphery. She’s kneeling on the cold tile, half-naked, with Jane’s scent filling her nose and Jane’s taste still strong on her tongue, but she doesn’t move until the other agent murmurs a neutral goodbye and slips out the front door.

This isn’t healthy, she’s pretty sure, but that has never been Sabina’s strong suit. She knows when Elena asks, teasing, about the scratch marks across her shoulders, Jane won’t even look up from her tablet, but might nonchalantly chuckle at whatever nonsense, humorous lie Sabina would give. She doesn’t care, or that’s what she tells herself whenever she hears Jane tell Bosley about some date with some man, ripping open a tiny tear in her chest each time. She could say no, maybe confront the blurry daydreams her mind won’t let go: warm laughter and candles and wine, dim light and legs tangled under bedcovers and _good morning._

She could, she tells herself as she slowly gets to her feet. But Sabina Wilson’s life has been a story of never saying _no,_ even if the high she’s chasing never quite leaves her satisfied.


	2. you want that young love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: Jane's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally wanted to include a perspective change, but then decided against it, and ope I had regrets and made it into a second chapter and I think I made it sadder? Tags have been updated accordingly.
> 
> Chapter title still from **Tough on Myself** by King Princess
> 
> _You want that young love_  
>  _Like passing me notes, hon_  
>  _That shit that you dream of_  
>  _I'm just sitting at home_  
>  _Smoking joints like it's my job_  
>  _'Cause that's what my dream was_

Even though she’s been here a dozen times, Jane hadn’t  _ seen  _ much of Sabina’s safe house, tucked away in a nondescript apartment building, in a neighborhood once under the flag of East Germany. Back then, Berlin had been a hotbed of clandestine international activity, and though it was nowhere near the final destination it used to be, the city still came into play regularly during their missions. Jane didn’t  _ see _ the inside of the utilitarian space much, however, because she usually didn’t get more than two steps past the door before her whole world boiled down to nothing but the spiking ache between her legs and the taste of Sabina’s tongue sliding past her lips. Vodka and something citrusy. 

Although Jane Kano and Sabina Wilson wouldn’t be the first Angels in history to cross this line, if anyone found out, they would almost certainly be precluded from working so closely together—personal messiness, after all, almost always became dangerous in the field.

Jane knows this. She  _ knows  _ that it’s wise.

But with the edge of the kitchen counter digging into her hip and her fellow agent on her knees in front of her, Jane can’t find it within herself to worry about the rules, or Bosley, or Elena, or even Charlie. Sabina’s safehouse is completely off the radar, and the freedom of it is probably what gave Jane the bravado to cross this line in the first place. They’d somehow gotten into a shouting match over the last mission: Sabina had nearly sacrificed herself to disarm a bomb, when they’d already evacuated the building, so the only casualty of failure should’ve been plaster and wood—but Jane had stood with Elena at ground level, yelling into their comms, and nearly sobbing with relief when the timer’s end came and went, and then Sabina emerged from the building. The incident left her feeling raw and confused, and when the blonde had snarled something like  _ Elena and Bosley are over it, so why aren’t you? _ , Jane couldn’t think of any verbal response, any possible way to get her point across other than grabbing Sabina’s sharp chin and yanking her in for a kiss.

That same attitude hasn’t gone anywhere with this new element to their relationship. Today, Sabina’s being bratty despite her position on the floor, ignoring Jane’s attempts to push harder against her mouth and keeping her tongue slow as it wanders, tracing Jane’s clit and outer labia with maddeningly light pressure. She knows what Sabina wants; if Jane were looking down, she’s sure mossy green eyes will be gazing back up at her, filled with something warm and syrupy and too intense for Jane to handle. Instead, she keeps her own eyes shut, and it’s easier that way. Easier to come, at least.

Jane drops her hands to tangle in Sabina’s shaggy hair, tugging harder than she might normally, but the older Angel is apparently feeling stubborn today, and something about the defiance that makes her core start to pulse and ache. She reluctantly cracks open her eyes and looks down, having to suck in a breath at the sight of Sabina’s face nestled between her legs, her green eyes curled in a smirk.

When Sabina winks at her, Jane briefly considers twisting the leg over the blonde’s shoulder and taking her to the floor, but… she likes this vantage point too much. Sabina’s undressed down to her black Calvin Klein briefs, the sharp muscles of her back outlined with a sheen of sweat, her shaggy hair mussed and falling into her eyes. She looks debased and blissed at once, staring up at Jane like Icarus challenging the gods, and the answering tightness in Jane’s chest is exactly what she️’d hoped to avoid. 

So she just snarls down at her, something about fingers, and Sabina seems all too happy to comply. Her lips finally close around Jane’s clit, sucking while her tongue massages the aching bud, and Jane arches forward as spikes of pleasure zip across her bones, and,  _ finally, _ two of Sabina’s strong fingers bottom out inside her before picking up a hard, choppy rhythm. Jane lets her hips rock against the other agent’s face, eyes rolling back again as her body tenses and shudders through the nearly overwhelming sensations. Sabina’s strength is relentless, the force of her thrusts rocking Jane’s whole body, and her mouth is hot and wet and hungry, and suddenly the orgasm Jane had demanded is too close, too soon, looming like a tsunami that blocks the sun.

Her body seems to know what she wants before her mind can decide. Jane yanks Sabina off her clit, which throbs at the loss of pressure, and takes a beat to admire the shining wetness she can see coating the blonde’s lips and chin. Sabina’s eyes are unfocused, but she seems to understand enough to not stop the pounding between Jane’s legs, even as the taller woman pushes two fingers in her mouth. She isn’t completely sure what she’s doing, but Sabina’s trapped tongue is warm and smooth and accepting, and Sabina… Sabina’s the only lover who’s made Jane feel this  _ free, _ and not just because of the safe house. 

Every nerve ending in her body catches fire when she experimentally pushes down, and Sabina’s throat shudders, the flexing muscles visible as she tips her head back. Sabina Wilson is a highly trained international operative, strong and smart and dangerous, though reckless… but for Jane, she’s a soft, pliant thing, completely controlled by just the press of two fingers or the husk in her voice, in complete service to Jane’s pleasure. 

When she notices, farther down️, Sabina’s other hand working furiously between her legs, knuckles tenting the fabric of her briefs, Jane hurtles over the edge. The looming wave breaks and crashes over her arching spine, splashing white-hot pleasure at the base of her skull, and her vision blurs as Sabina’s deft fingers keep massaging her g-spot. She can feel the blonde moaning around her fingers, sees the way her body tightens and releases as her hand slows, and it seems like it takes a long time for them both to come down. 

There’s a delicious ache in her muscles when Sabina’s fingers slip out, and it’s a stark contrast to the painful tightening in Jane’s chest as the post-orgasm clarity takes hold. Drawing her own fingers past Sabina’s lips, Jane averts her eyes from her fellow agent as she pulls her shirt down and her leggings up. She knows what she’ll see if she does: Sabina’s delicate, handsome features with her guard down, with a little glint of  _ hope _ in her usually mischievous green eyes. Hope for what, they’ve never discussed. They can’t.  _ Jane _ can’t.

So she ties her shoelaces with shaking fingers and ignores the slump to Sabina’s bare shoulders she can see in her periphery as the blonde remains kneeling in the kitchen, a devotee waiting before an empty altar. 

When she’s grabbed her jacket, Jane pauses by the door, her eyes lingering on the forest of empty liquor bottles on the living room coffee table. Over her shoulder, she says, “Take care of yourself, ‘Bina. I’ll see you in Milan next week?”

If the other agent hears the words, she doesn’t respond, and so Jane just slips out the front door, picking up her cell phone from the lead-lined mailbox outside the building and slipping it into her pocket without powering it on. She walks around the corner, far enough to be sure Sabina can’t see her, and then allows herself to fall against the smooth stone of the nearest building. She needs to catch her breath and get the tug of emotion behind her eyes under control, before she meets with another Angel for a recon mission in Prague. Jane Kano has always prided herself on her professionalism and level head, but… when it comes to Sabina, she feels like a cruise missile careening out of control.

Undoubtedly, Sabina Wilson drives Jane Kano mad with her irreverent, chaotic way of lurching through life and hoping for the best… but ever since Jane had woken up in that blown-out building, confused and hurting, and set her eyes on Sabina’s lifeless form… There was no denying that she cared for her fellow Angel deeply, beyond a simple friendship. Beyond that, things got a little… gray. 

And that’s why, she would say to herself, she kept Sabina at arm’s length whenever the blonde wasn’t moving inside her. At her core, Sabina was sweet, and she was brave and loyal and smart, and deserved far better than what Jane Kano brings to the table, a fractured, empty life with no clue what she wants when the missions end. So like a good agent, she plays her part, acting uninterested in Elena’s ribbing over the marks on Sabina’s skin, even though Jane clearly remembers leaving each scratch and bruise. If Bosley picks up on anything between them, she doesn’t seem to have enough evidence to address it directly, but whenever asked about her dating life, Jane of course has easy lies of her own at the ready. 

It’s better this way. Jane can still be close to her best friend, still fighting alongside her, making sure she’s safe, and on those random days when Sabina sends her private phone an encrypted text… 

_ It’s better this way, _ she repeats to herself, over and over, as she pushes off the wall and strides down the Berlin street. 

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr [@trashyeggroll](https://trashyeggroll.tumblr.com/)


End file.
